


Among The Wreckage

by mysolitarydream (waitinginthepen)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-20
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitinginthepen/pseuds/mysolitarydream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An assortment of drabbles set shortly before/in/immediately after the Ark incident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Among The Wreckage

**Author's Note:**

> I've resigned to the fact that I'm not going to finish writing this fic in its entirety. It'd been sitting on my hard drive mostly untouched, but I liked some of the scenes too much to let them go to waste. They're now posted in a chonological order rather than the way they would have appeared in the fic.

**Seeing**   
_(on the ship to Japan)_

He had no idea why he needed to keep staring at the damned card. At first sight, he'd instantly memorized every little scratch, every nuance of color, every tiniest speck of dried blood on both front and back. With that memory of his there was absolutely no reason to hang onto the physical object itself, no reason to let his eye wander it in moments he felt unwatched.

Why had he felt the need to pick it up at all? As if holding onto Allen's personal belongings could bring him back. Bookman was right, he was being sentimental. He didn't know himself anymore. He'd lost control of his persona. He knew it and yet ... he just couldn't bring himself to cast the card overboard.

For a moment he actually tried. For a long moment there was nothing but the sea, the wind and the rush of blood in his ears that accompanied Lavi's struggle; in the end, however, his fingers remained clenched around the card and simply disobeyed the half-hearted command.

_“Bookmen have no need of a heart”_

True, in the life of a bookman, feelings were a distraction, a hindrance, even a threat. Lavi saw that, believed the rule and abided by it. Objectivity was a requirement, necessary to provide an accurate record of history in which feelings had no place.

Even if the concept of creating a friendly persona like Lavi seemed counter-productive, his roles were a valuable tool, very much like a key. People revealed more of themselves when they felt comfortable, they talked more. And as long as he was playing the role and he was able to keep them separate from who he was, or rather who he wasn't, there was no problem.

Resigned, Lavi slumped forward to rest against the railing but his eye remained fixed on the everpresent card.

~*~*~*~

 

**Remembering**   
_(in Edo)_

Lavi'd always been fond of his ability. He'd loved it for its usefulness in his studies, for how it had opened this whole new world of possibilities to him, this wealth of knowledge he'd gained access to through the bookman clan, and, on a deeper level, for the way it had given him a purpose and a place he belonged. This time however, Lavi wanted to fall to his knees and thank God for this gift of remembering every last detail.

Although the sight most likely would have burned itself into his memory even if had been less than perfect: Allen, standing there, poised to attack. Upright and strong and somehow much more mature, radiating certainty and determination, before his eyes widened as he recognized him.

“Lavi?”

He almost felt his heart stop.

_“Allen?”_

Lavi had stepped through the mist, ready to kill and afraid to die, but he'd found life.

~*~*~*~

 

**Pondering**   
_(back at the Order)_

Last he'd seen the younger teen in the infirmary, Allen had almost completely refused to speak to anyone. Every time Lavi had glanced at the bed next to his, all he'd seen was a tangled mess of white hair protruding from underneath the sheets that told him Allen was there, but had his back turned. His occasional attempts at conversation had only derived monosyllabic answers and, eventually, Lavi'd given up on even trying to get those. He figured, as long as Allen was eating his mandatory three carthorses a day it couldn't be that bad.

If Allen needed some time to dwell on what had happened in the Arc, he deserved the break more than anyone. It was the first time they'd had the chance to rest since the battle in Edo and there sure as hell was a lot to think about.

From what he'd seen and deduced from the snatches of conversation he'd caught, something big had happened to Allen's Innocence. Not for the first time today he wished he could share his thoughts with Bookman, but his mentor had fallen asleep some thirty minutes ago. Also, Lavi surmised, he'd have had a hard time bringing up the subject without giving away the cause for his concern.

So, since chances were he was going to get pummeled not only for waking his master, but also for his lack of objectivity, Lavi gave the old coot a mental kick and let him sleep. Crossing his arms behind his head, Lavi stared up at the ceiling and settled in for a long night.

Allen, it seemed, wasn't the only one in for some serious thinking.

~*~*~*~

 

**Accepting**

On the surface, not much had changed since they'd started sleeping together – they'd always gotten along more than well. From the beginning Allen had responded strongly to the amiable and mischievious nature of Lavi and Allen had always fascinated him in turn. Not just because of Hevlaska's prophecy, but also the boy underneath, all smiles and ravenous appetite and broken heart. Allen'd gotten under his skin, so much he'd call him a friend and actually mean it.

And friends they still were, first and foremost. Comrades. Exorcists fighting back to back. And that was the problem right there. Allen broke his focus, enough to have him ignore his common sense that kept yelling at him to keep his distance. And before he knew it he had been caught in an affair that was meant to be meaningless but in the end turned out everything but that.

Bookman had regretted Allen's 'death' for the sole reason that the prediction of the “Destroyer of Time” had proved incorrect; Lavi however found himself struggling with the question of when exactly his curiosity had turned into true affection.

~*~*~*~

 

**Responding**

_„Bookmen have no need of a heart.“_

In the years of his training his mentor had beaten the golden rule of their clan into his brain, most of the times physically, and yet Lavi felt his knees threaten to give out underneath him as Allen pressed him against the rough stone wall, locked in a kiss that felt far too desperate for the simple affirmation it had meant to be.

Allen launched himself at him in a childlike attempt to seek reassurance and pressed his hips against Lavi's in a way was anything but innocent. For a moment Lavi was too stunned to contribute more than by simply being there and letting himself be kissed, but then his head rapped sharply against the stone and he recovered from the paralysis. He returned the kiss, clinging just as tightly to Allen as the youth did to him. If Allen was pinning him to the wall then Lavi was holding him there. When Allen's fingers clenched in his hair Lavi's bunched up in the fabric of his vest. When Allen came up for air, Lavi closed the distance once again.

~*~*~*~

 

 

**Deciding**

In many ways Allen still was a mystery to him. The way he could go from the vulnerable youth to cold-blooded card shark in the blink of an eye never failed to amaze him, but this Allen was something else yet again. Strong and certain about what he wanted and needed and uncompromising in his actions to get it. And yet, he wasn't sure why, but Lavi thought Allen had never been so completely there. Had never looked at him quite that way that made him shudder whenever their eyes met.

And damn if that didn't turn him on.

~*~*~*~

 

**Confirming**

Lavi had always possessed a certain appreciation in the way of visual aesthetics, particularly when it came to the curves of a female body. The perfect contrast of black marks on Allen's pale skin, however, held his eye. Not only had Allen's innocence come back to him after having been disintegrated - it had also completely changed it's appearance. It seemed to have bonded with Allen even closer than before - the black and white patterns on his shoulder seemed to reach out and hold him, like a visible promise.

Inquisitively he drew his fingertips across Allen's upper arm and met a familiar reaction. Where ever Lavi's fingers dragged across the exposed marks his skin begun to tingle as if tiny sparks of electricity were passing between innocence and skin.

The sudden hitch in Allen's breathing encouraged him to renew the contact and he found himself having to hold back a moan as the innocence issued it's own welcome to the other conformer, biting and playful, both warning and invitation to touch at the same time.

~*~*~*~

 

**Feeling**

Lavi blinked to push aside the memory and kissed him fiercely, tumbling the shorter teen to the bed, who was making rapid progress of shedding his clothes without coming up for more air than absolutely necessary. Lavi's hands roamed just as freely, fumbling, groping, clinging to whatever of Allen he could find. When Lavi's hand found the way into his pants and followed the curve of his ass, Allen groaned and arched into him, his erection hard and real against Lavi's thigh.

With a hiss, Lavi pulled back just enough to be able to roll them around until he was looking up at the younger teen, one of Allen's hands braced on either side of his head, one of his legs between Lavi's. He rocked up to press against Allen's groin and was rewarded with a heartfelt moan that in turn sent waves of anticipation to where his own cock was straining against his pants.

His hips bucked forward involuntarily as Allen pressed the palm of his left hand against his achingly hard groin so that he could feel prickling sensation of the foreign innocence even through the fabric. Allen, the smart little bastard, knew just how much he enjoyed that; whenever they needed to be quick, all he needed to do was stroke him with the hand that held his innocence to have him begging shamelessly for release within minutes. Lavi squirmed to somehow intensify the contact.

“Shit, Allen, want you...”

A small nod was all he needed.

~*~*~*~

 

**Depending**

Allen shifted between his thighs, too desperate, too urgent to find his mark right away. The tip of his cock sliding along the delicate skin behind Lavi's balls made both of them squirm and whimper with mutual frustration.

“Sorry,” Allen forced out between gritted teeth, struggling to readjust his posture.

“Waited for you long enough, beansprout” Lavi heard himself answer in a voice that was trying for teasing but couldn't manage more than wanting and aroused. “Little more's not gonna kill me. Probably...”

For an instant Lavi caught something carnal and possessive in the other's eyes and barely had time to think ' _Aw, shit'_ , before Allen slid home, forcing the breath from his body and wiping the smile off his face.

“Fuck, Allen...” he mouthed and heard Allen moan agreement against his shoulder.

“Don't ...” he breathed after a long while and just before Lavi had time to wonder what he meant, Allen continued. “... don't joke about dying. Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still reposting my old fics from livejournal.


End file.
